


Unfinished WIP: Madara - Warmonger!papa!Madara

by moor



Series: Tumblr writing practice [15]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Founders Era AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Gen. (?). Madara, Izuna and Sakura. Founders Era AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Atop the leafy branch in the dense forest, Izuna’s eyes narrowed, his left ear twitching. There, the sound came again from the rustling shrubbery below.

He caught Madara’s eye and their twenty-member exploratory team continued on, Izuna and Madara sending clones ahead to lead them while the pair of brothers circled back. They spread to either side of the now-calm forest floor, Sharingan activated. It was only a week before when they had faced off against a daimyou who commissioned them to perform a dangerous retrieval mission, only to renege on payment and then try to have them killed. It hadn’t gone well, afterward—for the daimyou. Which was why the Uchiha had taken to travelling in larger groups the last week, in case the daimyou decided to make another poor decision. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to double-cross the Uchiha. (Rarely had anyone ever done it twice, but precautions were necessary in such times of war and strife where the enemy of one’s enemy was one’s friend.)

Which was why a rustle in the bushes which normally would have been ignored was about to be thoroughly investigated by two of the strongest members from the clan. Rabbits could scamper unharmed, but threats needed to be neutralized, no matter how small and seemingly inconsequential. All it took was a crack in a dam for it to leak and burst, and the Uchiha were known for being strong, impenetrable. Their reputation had to be upheld, not for posterity but self-preservation. It was as much about protecting the clan as it was about sending a clear message to the neighbouring villages: The Uchiha were the best and would not tolerate betrayal or petty vengeance.

They approached smoothly, keeping to the dappled shadows cast by the heavy branches in the still-smoldering wreckage of the forest. A horrible battle had been fought here, it seemed, even as the wildlife had returned. Several days ago, perhaps? 

The Uchiha were confident and wary. It was a routine they had practiced a hundred times and so familiar they didn’t need words to communicate positioning or timing. 

The bush rustled one last time before they leapt.

 

*********

Izuna’s glare quelled any questions their fellow clansmen may have asked as the pair returned to their travelling party. Not that many would have dared speak out against them, but the unconventional situation… may have warranted a touch of explanation.

Madara ignored the uncertain looks and suspicion that followed his back, a spot on his back that normally proudly proclaimed the uchiwa fan.

A spot that still proclaimed the uchiwa fan, but this time the uchiwa was hidden beneath a small bundle wrapped and swaddled between his shoulder blades.

Every so often Izuna would reach over his brother’s shoulder to adjust the wrapped bundle, or pass… food… to it?

The men remained alert in spite of the strange behaviour of their leaders, but more than once passed curious glances amongst each other.

The strange bundle was explained, to a degree, that night around their campfire.

 

**********

 

“A lost child?”

Izuna nodded while Madara fed the youngling from his own bowl, as if it were completely natural. It’s tiny hands were pale, however; as pale as the Uchiha’s own skin as they clung to the front of Madara’s tunic, some of his wild, shaggy hair caught in their tiny grip. Madara had removed his armor that night as they sat around the campfire. The bundle, still loosely wrapped, wore a loose hood over its hair. From beneath the child’s makeshift hood, wide eyes could occasionally be made out, vibrant, lively green sparkling from the shadows.

“We already past the village that used to be in this area,” said Takumi. “The fires burned most of the surrounding forest, too, after warlord Ginta’s looting.” His hard gaze softened in sympathy as he eyed the quiet child. It shook its head and refused more food, choosing instead to curl up in Madara’s lap, tiny fingers still lost in Madara’s cotton tunic. 

Takumi shook his head as he caught Izuna’s eye. There had been no survivors. “It will be three days before the next settlement.”

Izuna glanced at his brother who now rubbed the child’s back gently, soothing it. Madara held himself still, avoiding any movement that might disturb the child sleeping on his crossed legs. Without being asked, Izuna reached over to place more stewed meat in his brother’s bowl. Madara nodded in thanks.

  
**********

The clan arrived at the main camp one member greater than they had left with. Which… was not often how things went at the Uchiha clan encampment.

Izuna remained by Madara’s side, the now-familiar weight of the bundle snugly wrapped across Madara’s front. Stunning green eyes looked out from beneath a loose hood, observing the new surroundings.

The surroundings stared back.

Tiny fingers grasped loose locks of Madara’s hair, and she held on tight.

His large, rough, warm hand never left her small back.

 

**********

 


	2. The Garden

Sakura peeked around Madara’s legs, tiny fingers clutching his charcoal clan robes. His red armour remained at home that morning as they walked around their clan encampment, breakfast fires cooling but the scent of food hung in the air. The sun shone brightly promising a sunny, warm day in the early spring. Even the birds agreed with their frequent chatter from the treetops. Sakura recognized that this was a Safe Place by how relaxed—for him—Madara was. He seemed almost happy as he calmly watched his clan go about their day, preparing seeds for more planting or gathering clothing and weapons to be mended; groups of friends sitting together to catch up as they worked, or in some cases, sing. 

While Sakura had been with the Uchiha clan for a little while, she was still learning. Their accent differed from the one she had learned, making her still quite shy to speak in front of others. She felt uncomfortable with some of the looks she received, too, and didn’t understand why some members of her new clan resented her, their lips tight and unsmiling. Her Madara may not smile often, but she recognized the gentleness behind his gaze and the warmth of his hand as he rubbed her back to help her fall asleep. Around their encampment, she stayed close to her papas, Madara and Izuna, where she felt safest.

“Walking.”  
  
Sakura heard the faint rumble of Madara’s voice and focused on where he was leading her that day. He rarely let her walk on her own. More often than not, she was bundled up and tucked into his or Izuna’s chest or back, depending on how quickly they needed to move. It seemed they were very safe today, if she was allowed to walk on her own. 

To Sakura’s surprise, their destination was a little residence not very far from their side of the clan camp. Surrounded by gardens, the stone dwelling was a rarity for the Uchiha who tended to move around as frequently as needed, whether to approach a battle or avoid unnecessary conflict. But this building squatted neatly in a patch of sunlight provided by a break in the leafy canopy above. An oasis of openness in the dense trees that normally hid and protected them. They must be staying at a long-standing Uchiha camp, then, this time.

As they got closer, Sakura’s shy smile broke through when she spotted small plots of vegetables poking their early sprouts from the ground, reaching for the warmth of the sun. She pointed curiously at the green shoots, tugging at Madara’s trousers above his leg wraps.

From his advanced height, Madara looked down at Sakura, his stern features softening. He then crouched down and gave her a small pat on the back to nudge her towards the garden. Sakura wandered over with a cautious look back at Madara every few feet to make sure he didn’t stray. 

 

*****

Visits to the little garden became a special time for Sakura and Madara. Sometimes Izuna would join them and help Sakura dig small holes to plant more seeds, or provide gentle ‘rain’  in the form of water jutsu to help nourish the earth. Sometimes the pair of men would simply stand nearby, shoulder to shoulder, as the toddler watched the bugs crawling on the stems and leaves of the growing plants. Sometimes the men spoke to each other, sometimes they remained silent. Always, they were vigilant.

It was one cloudy, early morning when Izuna stood at Sakura’s side when it happened.

Sakura frowned at the stunted, wilting cucumber vine.

Sensing Sakura’s confusion and distress, Izuna leaned forward to get a better look at why the plant failed to thrive.

Sakura’s little pink brows too expressive on her round, pouting face, she reached a small finger to her lips, kissed it, and then pressed it to the sad vine.

It was in that exact moment that the plant, once so pathetically sunken, yellow and shrivelled, turned a healthy, vibrant green.

Izuna narrowed his eyes. Was the heat playing a trick on him?

He shook his head.   
  
Was the plant firmer, now, thicker? It seemed straighter, less wasted.

He glanced between Sakura, who had a tiny smile on her face, and the plant, which resembled the others in its row. Sakura looked up at Izuna and beamed at him with her delighted smile. She reached for his hand and pulled him along to the next plant, which she carefully inspected. Confused and unsettled, Izuna dutifully followed her.

Did Madara know, Izuna wondered. He looked for Madara, but found his older brother distracted, staring into the deeper forest.

Ahead of Izuna, Sakura continued hopping along to the next plant, patting each one in encouragement.

No others changed colour. 

“Lunch,” called Madara a little while later.   
  
Halfway down the pumpkin patch, Sakura poked her head up and nodded.

_ Hn. _ Probably just a trick of the light, decided Izuna. 

 

*****

“Sakura…”

Upon hearing Madara’s voice, Sakura froze. Without moving her head, she looked down at her sticky hands.

Caught.

Madara, Izuna and Sakura had been coming to the little garden now for several weeks. She loved their time together there. She had discovered so many bugs, plants, flowers, scents, textures! She loved her little paradise.

Sakura especially loved the patches of wild strawberries that grew near the raspberry bushes.

“What have you found?” asked Madara, approaching a crouched Sakura from behind. 

Sakura’s shoulders rose up to her ears as she crouched into an even smaller ball.

“Sakura…”

Madara’s voice was low; neither irritated nor cajoling, curious nor disappointed. He wanted Sakura’s attention, and would not wait much longer for her.

Biting her bottom lip, guilt in her wide, green eyes, Sakura turned around achingly slowly.

Madara was silent with disapproval, his hands crossed over his chest as he stared down at Sakura.

Her bottom lip quivered. Madara had never been angry or disappointed with her before.

“How many did you eat?”

Her cheeks still puffed out from how many berries she had stuffed in her mouth, Sakura hid her hands behind her back and shook her head. She felt the juice running down her lips and chin, and tried to wipe it on her shoulder. The pink smears on her smock weren’t helping her case, and had she been older, she may have recognized the amusement Madara fought to keep from displaying on his face.

“Have you spoiled your lunch?”

Sakura shook her head again, and tried to say, “No,”, but the mushed up berries in her mouth garbled her words.

Madara stared her down.

Sinking into herself, Sakura brought out one sticky hand and lifted a finger.  
  
“One,” she admitted, swallowing. 

Madara crouched down in front of Sakura, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked around at all the bitten-off strawberry tops that littered the ground around them. At the strawberry juice trails that ran from Sakura’s little fingers, past her chubby wrists to her elbows. 

He tilted his head to the side and questioned her again.

“Just one?”

A little uncertainly, Sakura slowly lifted a second pudgy finger.

“Two,” she amended. And swallowed again.

After a few seconds of watching her, Madara nodded and stood, holding a hand out to her.

“Let’s head home for lunch then. You must be hungry after working so hard in the garden,” he said, quietly leading his filthy ward from the neat rows of too-tempting strawberries. “What would you like to eat?”

Sakura lit up.

“Strawberries!”

To her surprise, Madara chuckled.


End file.
